Toy Soldiers
by PrussianBlueee
Summary: A parental discomfort between Francis and Arthur turns into a separation. A separation equals a divorce. In the crossfire are a pair of young Ameri-brothers, who will struggle to survive under the new conditions. Mentions of hunger and angst. T for safety.
1. Chapter 1

Toy Soldiers

An angst written of divorce and its repercussions.

Alfred was in the seventh grade when dad and dad decided to split up. It was bad. Swearing. Yelling. Gnashing of teeth. Finally it was over, him doing algebra in his room, he heard all of it, the fractions slipping through the cracks as he had listened intently, knowing how bad relations between the two had been recently.. his brother, Matty was silent as Alfred was.

It had only taken a month or two.

Soon enough Alfred was spending three and a half days in one spot and so was Matthew with him.

"Don't fret mon bébé's," He'd been told. "This'll all be okay in the end, I promise you!~" Caked under the layer of suave was alcohol. And lots. The disturbance only was felt harder with Al and Matt as they recoiled from the massive blow dealt to their hearts seeing the dirty blonde, tear streak ridden Englishman wave at them as they were driven off.

Half week number one was spent with Francis. Alfred seemed distracted at first, but he began to deal with it as best he could. Matthew refused to believe they were separate, distraught and speechless. But both had been struck.

Then the half a week became half a year.

And from there there two years.

Alfred was stretched. Stretched beyond belief. He felt alone and disturbed, feeling unwilling to get out of bed in the morning and actually do things, but he had plans for himself dammit. He needed to move on from this and knew all too well, but there wasn't much he could do but..

Ignore Arthur's drunken rants and attempt to help Francis cope with his seemingly perpetually shattered emotions. Now Francis seemed to snap at the slightest issue, no room for error. This had especially hurt Matthew who had gotten along better with Francis anyways, who began to treat Matthew with malice.

Matthew had began to play the Clarinet in his meantime to try and get through his pain.. maybe he could get Arthur's attention if he played well enough, maybe he'd listen. Maybe he'd hear.

Matty'd been at it since 6th, having sensed the tension long before Alfred. He felt like a cause, and that had hurt him a lot, but he'd kept quiet.

Alfred had sulked, participation in sports waining, at first gaining weight but then losing it. He'd gone from strong and healthy to weak and in need of a sandwich. The boys soon had to cook for themselves, unable to get Arthur to get up from drunken slumbers or be called ignorant and rude for daring ask Francis to cook. "Can't you see I'm still hurting!?"

Alfred made the decision. And he'd acted fast when doing it, but he'd done it.

He'd joined JROTC. He loved the idea of things being orderly with proper feel, as long ago Arthur had taught him that order was good before he had eaten his words and choked. He enrolled in every extracurricular program to do with it. And he was prepared. Or so he thought.

Meanwhile, Matty had landed himself second chair clarinet as a freshman in his school's band, and was happy to wear the title. The sense of accomplishment was astonishing and it was rejuvenating to him. It seemed like light had been breathed into his life. But he was going to be... contested, for this seat. On multiple fronts.


	2. Chapter 2

TS Ch2

No A/N

August 10th, 6:27 AM

Alfred stands in front of the rather ominous building. Just outside are pull up bars and a sand pit, he didn't want to know what for. He slowly advanced, trying to trigger an inside chain reaction to bolster some damn courage.

He'd looked at the military of America for the longest time. Loved the image of honor and sacrifice for the greater good. "You know. Hero stuff." He'd explain if you asked.

He knocked on the door. It took a few seconds.. before a young man looking only a few years older than him with combed back blonde hair and a stern, stony facial expression. "..." he said nothing, wearing a khaki uniform button up shirt and black pants with the shirt tucked in, the pants pulled up almost to the belly button, brass buckle and black dress shoes with long black socks. Atop his head a combination cap with an olive branch. And to top it off three medals hanging from his neck with ribbons of many colors on his chest.

In other words, ominous.

Alfred started in return in shocked silence. This guy was around his age. How could he possibly be so accomplished?

"State your name, rank, and purpose of travel." His accent was German. His nametag read "Ludwig" and another nametag below it, "C.O."

"Dude, you're.. high up aren't you?" Alfred was in awe, unaware of his words passing his lips.

"Yes, now tell me your name, rank, and purpose of travel." He said this with slight irritation, though also a sense of indignation. Like this was his job.

Alfred gulped. "It's uh.. day one,..." he fumbled with his words before finding it! "..uh sir." Ludwig leaned back slightly, stony expression slowly fading into a slight itty bitty smirk. "Welcome, I should've known you didn't know, my bad. Don't worry. I'll tell you later. Now take a seat." Ludwig got out of the doorway to let him in.

Alfred slowly trudged in, eyes open in awe. Behind him Ludwig shouted. "Attention on deck! We've got a recruit!"

In another part of the building, Matthew steeled himself. "Alright, no matter what happens, persevere." He pepped himself up out loud in his typical whispery voice. He opened the door to the band room, a massive building as he stepped in quietly, sneakers squeaking in the tile giving away his presence.

A man with dark brown hair with little attention to it and a formidably cheerful grin bestowed on his feature stood. "Ah! Chou must be the first of the new arrivals! Come in come in sit down!" He seemed very very open and optimistic, obviously loving his job. He was covered in a light pink button up shirt with some stylish black work pants with cargo pockets and black sneakers.

His eyes were particularly easy to affix to, being an emerald green. "I'm your music professor, Mr Carriedo. Good to meet you, you are?" "Uh.. Matthew, sir." "I'm not sir. I'm Mr Carriedo!" He gave off a laugh. His Spanish accent was obvious.

Then, as if saved by the grace of god, another student entered to divert Mr Carriedo's attention. Matthew finally exhaled, with breath he didn't know he was holding. He sat down, near the front but in the second row of chairs all placed in a semi circle.

He waited patiently. Hoped Mr Carriedo was always as friendly as he was now. This year would prove... interesting.

A/N: Thanks for the positive review and favorite! Thanks Gipsypipsy, I'll be sure to keep this moving.


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